THE servants talked one after another in excitement that only grew with time.
“Goodness, I cannot begin to describe how beautiful your hair is.”
“It is lustrous and smooth—just like silk.”
“Uh-huh…” Amelia muttered. In contrast to their expressions, her face was grim.
After being guided to a room within the royal court, Amelia had a bath right away—or more like, the servants made her take a bath. They were so invested that her resistance had all been in vain, and they polished her body and beauty to the extreme. In the blink of an eye, they put a fancy dress on her and arranged her hair.
The jade-green dress featured embroidery in silver threads on her chest, and blue beads modeled after fruits sparkled beside the intricate design. The skirt was made from several layers of fabric in pastel colors, and the colors shifted little by little from one layer to another. The drape was graceful like flowing water.
A ribbon of turquoise and silver that wound around her waist like a belt, and the ends that hung down also glimmered with silver embroidery. The same kind of ribbon was used in her hair, and it spilled down her shoulders with her braided hair, swaying gently with her every movement. The part of her hair that wasn’t braided was left to flow freely down her back, but it was decorated with tiny flowers made from silver thread, as well as beads that were scattered here and there.
Amelia’s reflection in the mirror was just like a princess from some unknown kingdom, but it felt so absurdly unfamiliar to her that she was somewhat restless. She’d expected a change of attire because Hans had announced it beforehand, but never in her life had she imagined that she’d be given a spa treatment before being adorned in such a gorgeous dress.
She had an idea about why—if she looked too unseemly during the dismissal of the betrothal, people might start taking her side out of pity. The new couple likely wanted the masses to give their blessings, so Amelia mustn’t be a pitiful princess, but a woman who deserved to be thrown away.
Or, perhaps this was a gesture of consideration toward Amelia, who was technically a fellow princess at the end of the day.
After a moment of hesitation, she spoke up. “Excuse me. Who does this dress belong to? Is it really okay to borrow it?”
Amelia doubted Prisca would do something like chucking juice at her in front of prying eyes, but you never know what might happen. She’d feel guilty if she got it dirty.
Just as she thought that, a female servant smiled broadly at her. “This dress was tailored especially for you, Your Highness.”
Amelia blinked. “Tailored? By whom?”
“It was under the direction of Lord Luke Klein.”
“I see… That makes sense. No one would want to lend me a dress since it’d probably bring bad luck.”
If so, a slightly more half-hearted dress would be enough in her opinion, but she interpreted it as Luke’s kindness and accepted it with a grateful heart. In contrast to Amelia, who looked convinced, the servants’ expressions turned puzzled.
The next moment, there was a knock on the door. “Lord Luke has arrived,” someone reported.
Amelia had heard that Luke would be her escort, but she hadn’t thought he’d come this early, almost immediately after she’d gotten dressed. Somewhat nervous, she stared at the door, which opened to reveal a lone young man standing behind it.
He wore a navy jacket, adorned with a jade-green floral ornament. Amelia wondered whether he was matching colors with Amelia’s dress because they were, strictly speaking, still betrothed. Even if he’d done it begrudgingly, she was overjoyed that they had matching outfits.
Gradually, she lifted her gaze. Wait. His face was familiar.
The beautiful young man with ashen hair and golden eyes curled his lips into a cheery smile when his gaze locked with Amelia’s. “Amelia. We see each other at last.”
Her eyes widened. “Luke…?”
He had a familiar voice and face—he was the “Luke” she’d met in the city.
“Yep. I’m Luke Klein.” He paused. “Your fiancé.”
Walking up to her, Luke gave her a polite bow, but that was the last thing on her mind right now. Does this mean that the “Luke” in the city is the same person as Lord Luke? Or are they strangers that resemble each other by pure coincidence?
Though her thoughts were in a mess, she still had enough composure to open her mouth. But before she could say anything, there was an abrupt stir in the direction of the door.
There was a shout. “Amelia is here, isn’t she?!”
With that sharp question, the fourth consort and Prisca entered the room. Both of them were clad in more extravagant dresses than usual for their visits to the Fifth Palace. Prisca’s dress was especially stunning—intricate silver embroidery had been sewn into the deep crimson fabric.
Like Amelia, Luke also stared intently at Prisca’s dress. But was it just her imagination, or was he furrowing his brows?
Amelia was floored by the brilliance of a princess and heroine whose appearance lived up to those titles. Paying no heed to Amelia’s reaction, the mother and daughter looked in the pair’s direction. Their expressions clouded in an instant.
“What is the meaning of this?” the fourth consort asked.
With a smile, Luke bowed in greeting. “I am merely assisting my fiancée with her preparations, Fourth Consort.”
Prisca and the fourth consort traded glances.
The fourth consort was the first to speak up. “Amelia has a weak constitution, and I’m afraid she is far from a girl of discipline that I can present in public. Rather than choosing such an unseemly girl, how about you take Prisca as your partner?”
While Amelia tilted her head quizzically, wondering what the “weak constitution” part was about, Luke stepped forward until he was by Amelia’s side. “Unseemly, you say? Do you truly believe that after seeing Amelia? Her hair looks as if someone had spun her strands from stars, and her eyes shine like jewels. Without a doubt, she would be the most beautiful of them all, even in the evening party venue.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “My partner can only be Amelia, my fiancé.”
The fourth consort’s and Prisca’s expressions darkened even more, but a wide smile still played at Luke’s lips.
He continued, “I haven’t received even a single response from her for the past four years, and I was worried that she might have scorned me…but it appears that the truth is quite the opposite.”
Letting out a sigh, he stared unblinkingly at the mother and daughter. “Now then. You have lied that she is sickly, refused to inform her of my requests for visits, and absolutely none of my presents and letters have been delivered to her. I believe you owe me an explanation, yes?”
The fourth consort was struck speechless.
Prisca gazed at her mother before schooling her expression into a meek one as she stared at Luke. “Calling her sickly was perhaps exaggerated. That said, my sister is far from sophisticated enough to be presentable in public, I’m afraid, and she isn’t worthy of House Klein either. We only wanted the best for you, Lord Luke.”
“P-Precisely.” The fourth consort nodded. “Amelia has no grace, and she hasn’t been educated to an acceptable extent. Considering their respective births and backgrounds, Prisca is much more suitable. The two of you are a match made in heaven.”